What's it Worth?
by SamSam
Summary: Carter gets waaaaaay too depressed.


TITLE: What's it Worth?  
AUTHOR: SamSam  
RATING: G - General  
CATEGORY: Carter/angst  
SUMMARY: Carter gets waaaaaay too depressed.  
THANKS TO: Sarah & Tana for all their help!  
DISCLAMER: "ER," the characters and situations depicted within are the  
property of Warner Brothers Television, Amblin Entertainment, Constant  
c Productions, NBC, etc. They are borrowed without permission, but  
without the intent of infringement. The story presented here is  
written solely for entertainment purposes, and the author is making no  
profit.  
BACKGROUND: This fic takes place about two months after the stabbing.   
  
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What's it Worth?  
  
  
It was the end of his shift. Carter had become too depressed. He felt that everything was his fault. He walked to the supply room and grabbed meds. He filled his pockets. He said his good-byes to everyone in the ER for the night, and walked out to his jeep. He opened the door and climbed in. He turned on the radio and took out the meds. They were all injectables. He filled the six syringes and set them on the seat. He hoped that would be enough to kill himself. Who was he kidding? Of course it was enough to kill him. He took off his watch and rolled up his sleeves. He had not grabbed any alcohol wipes, but he figured it did not really matter since he would soon be dead. He did not want to kill himself for himself, but as a benefit to others. It seems like all he did was kill people. At least it was his fault that they were dead. He inserted the first needle into his wrist and injected the medication slowly. He felt better. He inserted the second needle into his wrist and injected it faster. He was bleeding a little now, so he switched to the other wrist. By the fifth injection, he was beginning to feel very weak, so he tried to hurry with the last shot. He passed out with the needle still in his wrist, half injected. He slumped over the steering wheel, causing the horn to sound.  
  
****************  
  
A security guard was the one that found him. The paramedics loaded him up on the stretcher and took him the two blocks to county.   
  
"What'd we got?" Mark asked.  
"30 year old male found passed out in his car. Probable drug overdose. Found six empty syringes in his car. Pulse irregular and tacky at 120, B/P 80/50, resps 11. We've got him on 100% O2 by mask, and started two IVs en route."  
Mark starred down at Carter in shock. "Kerry! Come here!"  
"What is it?" Asked the paramedic.  
"It's one of ours." Mark said. Kerry hobbled over and looked down at the gurney.   
"Oh my god! Carter!" She screamed.   
"Let's get him to trauma one." Mark tried to stay in control of his emotions.  
"On my count...1...2...3! I need a hemoglobin, lytes, tox screen, CBC, chem panel, and spin a crit!" Mark yelled out.   
  
*****************  
Carter had not planned on waking up, he had hoped that the meds would kill him instantly. Nevertheless, he felt himself coming around. He felt very weak, but had the urge to open his eyes to see what was happening to him. He heard voices he thought he recognized.  
  
*****************  
  
Haleh was the first to notice that Carter was waking up. "Dr. Greene, look. His eyes!"  
Carter was barely breathing, but his eyes were open. He looked directly at Mark with knowing concern in his eyes.   
"Carter. Carter! What did you take?" Carter was fading, and he knew it. He needed to know what he took. Now. "Carter! Carter, can you hear me?"   
John whispered, "Fentanol."   
"Puls/ox is 83. Resps down to 6." Chuni said.  
John closed his eyes.  
"Damn it! ...Hey!" Mark yelled at one of the paramedics, "How big were those syringes?"  
"10 C.c.s."   
"And you said that you found six of them?"  
"Yes. Five were empty and the sixth was in his wrist. It was half full."  
"So he got about 60 C.c.s of Fentanol?"  
"He's not breathing!" Haleh shouted.  
"Eight-Oh ET tube. Give him 15 of atomadate and 100 of sux!"  
"Pulse is down to 60!"  
"OK, I'm in! Bag him!"  
"He's bradying down, Mark."  
"I know, Kerry."  
"Lost a pulse."  
"Give him 3 of eppi and 2 of atropine."  
"Start chest compressions. Charge the paddles to 200."  
By this time, practically the whole ER was surrounding the doors of trauma 1.  
"Clear!" Mark yelled as he shocked Carter. Haleh stopped compressions and looked at the monitor. "Still asystole."  
"Charge to 300! Clear!"  
"Nothing."  
"360! Clear!"  
"Still flat-lined."  
"Keep going! Damn it! We can't lose him!"  
"Mark. He took 60 C.c.s of Fentanol. That is 10 times the dosage. Be realistic. If we do bring him back, he will probably be a vegetable for the rest of his life. Do you think that's what he really wants?"  
"Start an NG tube!"  
"Why Mark? Nothing went into his stomach. He injected it."  
"I don't know. I don't know! God."  
Haleh continued compressions.  
"Call toxicology! Maybe they'll know something else! Here, give me the phone!"  
Chuni continued bagging Carter and Haleh kept up compressions. The monitor droned flat-line while Mark talked on the telephone.  
  
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Should I continue? You be the judge. 


End file.
